


Settling In

by FyrDrakken



Series: Practice Makes Perfect [2]
Category: X-Men (Comicverse), X-Men (Movieverse), X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: Chronicle of a fanfic saga unfinished, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2001-11-26
Updated: 2001-11-26
Packaged: 2017-10-14 21:03:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,937
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/153437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FyrDrakken/pseuds/FyrDrakken
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bridging the gap between "Drunken Musings" and the main story of this arc, which I never actually finished...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Settling In

**Author's Note:**

> Not rough enough for angst, not soft enough for foof, and no smut till the next story in line... Just call it generalized character development and background info. Thanks: Due to all those whose feedback on "A Reasonable Compromise" provided the necessary inducement and encouragement to finish that monster and get off my duff and start posting this next thing. Also due to Seperis, for betas and AIM encouragement... Soundtrack and quotations: I've tried to find a quote to kick off each chapter that reasonably matches the mood or subject matter, some taken from song lyrics and others not. All songs quoted were chosen for lyrics first and foremost, and should not be taken as "soundtrack" indications. (Any attempts to create a soundtrack for this series based on songs quoted would be slightly misguided and in several cases disturbingly inappropriate. Anyone who actually listened to Tool's "jimmy" while reading "Drunken Musings" probably knows exactly what I mean! ;-D ) With that being said, A Perfect Circle's _Mer de Noms_ album remains the music of choice for my fic writing needs (and a kickass album all round)...  
> [ ] = thoughts  
> Bold = emphasis  
> / / = Rogue reliving a bit of borrowed memory

_"threw you the obvious and you flew with it on your back a name in your recollection down among a million same difficult not to feel a little bit disappointed and passed over when i've looked right through to see you naked and oblivious and you don't see me..."  
\- "3 libras," by A Perfect Circle _

* * *

  
It was a sign of how much Logan's presence had faded in her mind, that even the lovely Dr. Gray couldn't hold Marie's interest on a lecture covering the parts of the cell. She stared out the window, mesmerized by the green vista of the school's grounds, as always half-listening for the sound of an approaching motorcycle.

It didn't come, of course. Why would it? Just because he had promised - to take care of her, to return - didn't mean that he really would. In the first few days and weeks after he left, his voice had been strong in her head, assuring her that he would be back. He rarely made promises, but when he did he kept them.

[Oh, sure, just like he kept his promise to the Prof to stay here for a couple of days while ol' Chuckie found out what Magneto wanted... Hah!] Between Logan and Erik's influences, Rogue had become ever-so-slightly cynical over the past months. The faint trace of Wolverine that lingered in her head like a fading whiff of cigar smoke reminded her that he had broken his agreement with Xavier because he had been worried about **her**. [Maybe so, but he damn sure seems to pick and choose which promises he wants to keep.]

In the first few days after the Statue, while Logan remained comatose in Jean's Medlab, Marie had been vibrant with joy. Her life had been saved, she was safe in a place where she fit in with her fellow mutants, and a big bluff hard-drinking hard-fighting man who looked good enough to eat with his shirt off was so intensely interested in her wellbeing that he had repeatedly offered his own life up as a sacrifice to Fate in exchange for her own. Granted, he was in a coma now, but Jean assured her that he was recovering, and just as soon as he was up and around - well, then, they had laid one hell of a foundation to build from.

No one had told her that he was on his feet again, or she would have been down to see him in a heartbeat. So her only warning that things might not go as she had been hoping came with the sight of him heading for the door with a bag over one shoulder. She had gone after him in a near-panic, and been rewarded with a promise and his dogtag.

At the time, the Logan in her head had still been present enough to assure her that he **did** care for her, intensely, and that the tag he had given her really **was** important to him, and that his return could be counted on. But as the weeks passed with no sign from him, and his voice in her head faded, she remembered more and more the uncomfortable look on his face the last time they had spoken, and the way he hadn't wanted to meet her eyes. The adults around her smiled and exchanged glances whenever she mentioned Logan, and she had gotten the sense that they thought it was "cute" that she had gotten a little "crush" on the man who had saved her life, and that - maybe, just maybe - she was a little bit young for Wolverine.

Weeks had stretched into months, and the promise remained unkept. Logan's influence faded to the point where Jean no longer charmed her, and in point of fact that Mona Lisa smile that appeared on her face whenever Wolverine was mentioned had begun to irritate Marie no end. Rogue was beginning to come to the conclusion that Logan had chosen to sacrifice his dogtag as a way to save face while escaping an unwelcome obligation.

She still waited for his return, in a small hopeful corner of her mind. But the Rogue was cynically girding herself for a big disappointment.

Once again musing over the possible reasons he could have had for leaving, Marie absently ran her thumb down the inside of the rough chain the dogtag hung from, tuning out Jean's description of the form and function of the endoplasmic reticulum in the animal cell.

* * *

  
 _"I'm waiting, I'm waiting for you_

 _I am weak  
But I am strong  
I can use my tears to  
Bring you home_

 _I'm waiting, I'm waiting for you"  
\- "Milk," by Garbage _

* * *

  
It was somewhere around 2 or 3 am when Logan pulled Cyke's motorcycle into the driveway on Greymalkin Lane. Finding himself so comparatively close to his goal at nightfall, he had chosen not to stop until he reached the school, and so there was no one awake to welcome him when he arrived.

This bothered him not at all. Socializing had never been his strong suit. He put the bike back into the garage and found his way to his former room by memory.

Pausing at the door, he listened for breathing, a heartbeat, from within. No telling whether the X- Crew had gotten enough new recruits to put someone in "his" room - but apparently they hadn't, because the room was empty. Opening the door, he found things pretty much as he had left them. Judging by the lingering scents, people had been in and out of here a number of times recently, especially -

He took a few steps into the room, testing the air. Marie had definitely been in there, quite a bit. Her scent strengthened towards the bed, especially when he curiously pulled the covers back. Yep, she'd actually been **sleeping** in here, who knew how many times in the past few months? Which put a half-smile on his face - definitely the kid had missed him.

He set his bag on the floor near the wall and left various items of clothing draped over the chair, curling up in the bed for a few hours' rest. No doubt Marie would want to hear of his return as soon as possible - but it could wait for morning...

* * *

  
 _"Angels can be so deceiving  
When they love you well.  
Did you think you would be leaving me?"  
\- "Wolf," by Veruca Salt _

* * *

  
Actually, it was closer to early afternoon when he woke. He knew where he was even before his eyes opened - the faint Marie-scent remained, and had given him some interesting (and fairly naughty) dreams that left him in a reasonably good mood. A visit to the bathroom for a quick shower - yep, they'd even left some towels in there for him - and he was dressed and ready to go track down Marie.

He didn't have to look hard - at that time of day, his first guess was lunch, and he picked up her scent in the dining room even among the varied food smells and the traces of the entire population of the school. Food later - first he wanted to track down his girl, and with that in mind he followed her trail across the room, between tables and towards the door. Outside - ah, taking advantage of the summer weather, like he could see a number of students clearly doing.

On the way he passed the table the "teachers" were sitting at, including old Wheels himself. "Logan! So glad to see you've returned..." Xavier began, but Logan kept walking.

He gave Chuck a brief nod in passing and winked at Jean, while completely ignoring Cyke's, "What did you do to my **bike** , Logan?!"

Outside, he stopped at the door and scanned the lawn or courtyard or whatever the hell they were calling the grassy area outside. Even among the varicolored hair of the scattered students - he wondered absently how many of them dyed it and how many mutants might actually really have unusual haircolors - the white streaks were unique. She was sitting on a bench over to one side of the basketball court, watching some of the younger kids clown around in a game.

Slipping up behind her was as easy as the thought, and a minute later he was standing behind her wondering what to say. Somehow he suspected that commenting on the amount of time she had been spending in "his" room might not be the right move, and he wondered if he could get away with asking her if she had a boyfriend yet without sounding like a dirty old man.

[Stick to the basics, see where that gets you,] he decided. "Hey, kid..." and she twisted around on the bench to look at him..

He had a half-smile on his face - damn, but he was glad to see her again - but it froze at the look on her face. Given their parting - and especially given Jean's little comment on her being "taken with him" - he had been hoping for an enthusiastic greeting.

What he **wasn't** expecting was for her initial startlement at his voice to be immediately replaced by a polite expression and a cool, "Hi." As though he had been gone for a few hours, instead of a few months.

Not the most promising of reactions. And he wasn't great at making small talk. He settled for, "They been treatin' you all right here?"

"All right," she confirmed, and then, "Take care of your loose ends?"

He was confused for a moment, before he remembered the phrase he had used to excuse his running off four months ago. [Oh, yeah, I spent a few weeks scrabbling through a deserted military base and three months trying to convince myself I could come back here without trying to sling you over my shoulder and carry you off. See how well it's worked, I haven't even tried to touch you...] "Yeah, I guess."

"You back now, or running off again?"

"I'm back."

"You stayin' for good?"

"I thought I'd stick around for a while..." He couldn't quite interpret the look she gave him - a bit less cool, and slightly worried besides. "Try it out, see if I could find a reason to stick around..." [Not to put too fine a point on it...] She actually looked intrigued, which was the most encouraging thing he'd noticed since starting to talk to her. He stepped over the bench, casually sitting down next to her - close, but not too close.

And then she did something he hadn't expected - reached into her shirt and fished out his dogtag, then pulled it over her head and balled up the chain in one gloved hand. "You said you'd be back for this," she said, handing it to him.

He accepted it, then looked down at it, a little chagrined. What could he say to her - "I really like the idea of you wearing this - why don't you just keep wearing it?" "This wasn't really what I meant I'd be back for"? "I think it was pretty happy where it was"?

After a pause, he put it on. She hadn't exactly leaped for joy at seeing his face again, and he still hadn't figured out how to raise the all-important boyfriend question. He also wasn't sure how to interpret the way she'd been wearing his tag. Wearing it as opposed to keeping it in a drawer somewhere was a good sign - but under her clothes? So it would be closer to her, or so no one would see it? And did she really wear it all the time while he had been gone, or...

"Did you hear that I got back late last night?"

"No, should I have?"

He half-smiled again. "I think Cyclops may have gotten a look at his bike this morning."

"What did you do to it?"

"Went off the road at one point - trying not to hit a damn coyote that ran out in front of me. Shredded the leg of my jeans up, too, and the sleeve of my jacket didn't look too good, either." No point in mentioning what it had done to his own hide - **that** damage had been gone within minutes, and she knew enough of him not to bother asking if he had been hurt.

"And Scoo- Scott's motorcycle?" She was smiling now.

"Aah, scratched it up a bit. Looks a lot worse than it really is - still runs fine."

"Where were you that you almost hit a coyote?"

"Colorado."

"What were you doing in Colorado?"

"Following the Rockies south."

"Any reason?"

"No. Just... somewhere to go."

Somewhere between the tag and the motorcycle accident, the coolness had disappeared. They still weren't where he had hoped to be, but friendly speaking terms were good. He told her about his wanderings over the past few months - or rather, answered every question she could think of about his travels - until she had to go to class. Then he wandered back inside to chase down something to eat.

* * *

  
 _"I don't need an education  
I learnt all I need from you"  
\- "Medication," by Garbage _

* * *

  
Marie happily tuned in and out during Storm's lecture on the medieval struggle for power between the papacy and various monarchies. She had already done all the required readings, Logan had come back. Various popes claimed that Christ's Vicar on Earth held authority over mere earthly kings, Logan was here for the indefinite future. Henry VIII founded his own damn church when the pope wouldn't give him his divorce, Logan hadn't told her to keep his dogtag.

Rogue frowned a little. That last was a bit worrisome. She had been clinging to that tag like some class ring or something for the past four months, and nowhere in her daydreams of Logan's return had been the part where she offered it back and he took it without a word. It added an unfortunate credibility to the idea that she was too young for his tastes, and that he hadn't intended for her to wear his name around her neck like a "Property of..." label.

She shrugged philosophically. He was back, he liked her, and Jean might think he was fairly cute - hell, pretty goddamn attractive, in fact - but she was also firmly and obviously devoted to Scott. So the field was pretty clear for Marie, if she could just convince him that she wasn't as young for him as the adults around her seemed to think.

At the next few desks over, Rogue's inattention and dreamy smirk hadn't gone unnoticed. Jubilee debated whether or not she could get away with passing a note down to Rogue asking if it was true that Wolverine had wrecked Cyclops' motorcycle, come sneaking back in the wee hours of the morning, and spent the lunch hour doing what Bobby had annoyedly referred to as, "hitting on Rogue." Elbowing Kitty, she indicated their roommate's smug look and raised an eyebrow. Kitty nodded significantly. Not being a telepath, Jubi couldn't tell if that meant that Kitty was confirming the rumors or merely showing that she had noticed the look on Rogue's face.

As soon as class was over, the two caught Rogue on the way out. "Was that **him**?" Jubilee demanded.

"Was that who?" Rogue chose to play innocent, giving them a falsely noncomprehending look.

"Was that Wolverine? The guy you were talking to at lunch?"

"Sam said that the two of you looked pretty cosy on that bench," Kitty volunteered.

"Yeah, he got back last night." Elaborately casual.

Kitty and Jubi exchanged meaningful glances. Four months of watching Rogue fingering her dogtag while staring moodily out various windows, of listening to her going on about how gutsy Logan had been in the snow, in the train and on the Statue of Liberty, and of being woken by occasional Wolvie-the-lab-rat nightmares had left them both firm supporters of her right to fantasize about him if she wanted to. Both having seen him shirtless on his first night in the school after the nightmare-stabbing incident, Kitty was willing to agree to the premise that Logan was more desirable even in his absence than the present, cute, and attentive Bobby. (Jubi was not so sure on this point, feeling that a guy who stayed gone longer than a couple of months without even calling or writing deserved to be thrown over for someone with a better idea of how to treat a girl.)

"Well?" Jubi wasn't willing to play Rogue's game. "What did you talk about?"

"Oh, this and that." At Jubi's glare and Kitty's pleading look, she added, "He told me about where he's been since he left, and what he's been doing."

"And?"

"He went back to Canada, then followed the Rockies south for a while, then sort of wandered back to New York."

"What was he doing?" Kitty asked.

Jubilee cut in with, "Did he really wreck Cyclops' bike?"

"Drinking and getting in fights, mostly, and he says he just scratched it up but it still runs..."

* * *

  
 _"I have had a perfectly wonderful evening. But this wasn't it."  
\- Groucho Marx _

* * *

  
Having reestablished marginally satisfactory speaking terms with Marie, Logan didn't want to leave her until she was forced to go back to class. Left at loose ends, he was free to find his way to the kitchen and raid the fridge. He was busy establishing much more satisfactory (although non-speaking) terms with some leftover fried chicken when Scott found him.

Apparently One-Eye didn't have a class right now. Dammit.

"My **bike** , Logan..."

"It's in the garage." Logan gave him a bland look.

"What did you **do** to it?"

"Tried not to murder any of the wildlife. It still runs."

It was amazing how well Cyke could glare with his eyes covered, conveying his ire with shoulders and jaw muscles. "So nice of you to bring it back," he sniped.

Logan shrugged. "It was nice enough for a loaner, but on a long-term basis I'd like something a little heavier." He put his feet up on the table, leaving it to Scooter to fire the next salvo.

The topic of the motorcycle being a loss, Scott moved on to, "So now you're back."

A shrug. Statements of the obvious weren't worth the breath a reply would require.

"For good?"

"For now."

"Until you find another reason to leave?"

"Or a reason to stay." Cyke stiffened, reminding Logan suddenly that Scooter might actually be able to cause some interference if he knew that Wolverine had designs on one of the students. Moved by the twin impulses of concealment and deviltry, he added, "So, Jeannie get bored with you yet?"

The red herring worked as well as he could have hoped. "Jean and I are just fine together."

Logan smirked. [Aw, look at the little leader boy, worrying about the big bad Wolverine stealing Red. You're out of your league, kid.] "Well, maybe, maybe not."

Scott got in the last word, "No 'maybe' about it," before turning on his heel and leaving. No doubt he was headed after Jean to make sure she wasn't particularly charmed by Logan, or else heading for the Prof to ask if they had to let this pain in the ass actually stay under their roof.

Which reminded Logan that it would probably be a reasonably good idea to go check in with Wheels. Here he was crashing under his roof and raiding his kitchen, perhaps he should at least go say hi...

* * *

  
 _"You're very lucky! It just so happens that we have a vacancy for a 'dangerously unpredictable psycho slasher!'"  
\- The Professor to Wolverine, "$ Men," _MAD Magazine_ #399 November 2000 _

* * *

  
Luckily, stalking and devouring lunch (not to mention more or less cleaning up after himself afterwards) had taken up most of the class period, so Chuckie was actually free by the time Logan tracked him down. Hearing a single heartbeat and no voices, Logan opened the door to Xavier's office and stuck his head in without bothering to knock.

Unsurprised at his appearance (as was only proper for someone who had no doubt sensed his approach telepathically), the Professor raised an eyebrow. "So good of you to stop in to say hello, Logan," he said dryly.

Logan almost smiled. "Well, after chasing down Rogue, getting something to eat, and getting bitched out by Cyclops, you were the very next on my list..."

It was of course nowhere near to being an apology, but Xavier chose to accept it in the spirit with which it was intended. Courtesy ranked very low indeed on the list of things Wolverine was willing to spend time dealing with. In this case at least, no deliberate offense was intended.

Skipping over the pleasantries his companion would so obviously be impatient with, he moved directly to, "Did your trip north shed any light on your origins?"

"Not a damned thing. How's Ma- Rogue been?"

"Fine, just fine. She's doing very well in her studies and has made a number of friends among her fellow students."

Logan accepted this with a brief nod. He wouldn't ask Chuckie why Marie had felt compelled to spend so much time in his room - or why she'd had such a sad note to her scent - unless and until he couldn't find that out from the girl herself. "How about her 'gift'? Any luck with that?"

Charles looked saddened. "Nothing yet. She still cannot touch or be touched by anyone."

The Wolverine wanted to whimper in frustration at the news. Logan managed to keep from making any unhappy puppy noises in front of Wheels, though under the circumstances he figured that he could get away with looking distressed at Marie's predicament. "Poor kid," seemed to be a safe statement.

Chuckie was giving him a thoughtful look, and Logan felt compelled to change the subject. "How's Jeannie?" he asked, not having to fake a lascivious grin. Red was a dish and no mistake - granted, she hadn't stuck in his mind the way Marie had, but he wouldn't exactly kick her out of bed. (Unless Rogue wanted her spot...)

Xavier went from pensive to acerbic. "Jean is very happy - with Scott, I might add."

Logan shrugged. "Most women are about as happy as their options." Which was really an asinine little bit of pseudophilosophy, but at least it had gotten the topic off of Marie.

The Prof gave him a warning look, but dropped the subject, suspecting that nothing but a definitive denial from Jean herself would convince Wolverine (if even that would be sufficient). "Were you planning on staying here, or wanting to go out again?"

Another shrug - handy all-purpose gesture of noncommittal, disinterest, and occasional outright rudeness, that. "You still wanting an unstable short-tempered homicidal bastard on the team?"

Xavier's look actually softened at that, he being more than sensitive enough to pick up the faint note of isolation underlying the snide remark. "You made a valuable contribution when you helped us against Magneto. Of course you're more than welcome for as long as you want to stay."

Soppy sentimental thank-yous were on the list of Things Wolverine Didn't Do. "Yeah, I guess I could stay - for a while. Until something better comes along, anyway..."

* * *

  
 _"Almost everything in life is easier to get into than out of."  
\- Agnes' Law_

* * *

  
Between the obligatory gossip session with her bestest buds, classes, and writing an essay on the use of irony in the work of Nathaniel Hawthorne, Marie was kept busy until dinner. Making her way to the dining room, she didn't realize that she had acquired a shadow until Logan said, "These geeks been keeping you busy?"

She jumped at the unexpected voice behind her, then couldn't stop the grin that insisted on spreading across her face. "A little, but I'm free now. Care to join me for dinner?" Keeping her tone as casual as she could, since she would just about die if he said no...

"I could eat," he answered just as casually. No need to mention that he'd been lurking in the halls by the dining room for the past two hours waiting for her, so that he could "just happen" to go to dinner at the same time.

For some reason Marie found herself babbling about something really silly that had happened in chemistry class the previous week involving vapor pressure, a miscopied formula, and Bobby freezing some of the apparatus in an attempt to get an airtight seal. Logan happily let her chatter about the resulting chemical fountain, since it saved him having to struggle to find a decent conversational topic, let alone actually trying to come up with something sensible to say. He had enough to deal with in keeping the Wolverine from doing anything unfortunate like grabbing for Marie's ass - or getting caught staring at her cleavage - or noticeably sniffing the air around her. Trying to operate his mouth at the same time would be asking for trouble, at least until he'd gotten a bit more used to being around her again after so many months.

Which didn't mean that he was pleased when Marie's running monologue was broken off to greet a pair of girls who wandered over, lunchtrays in hands. "Logan, this is Jubilee and that's Kitty. They're my roommates. Guys, this is Logan - Wolverine." He gave them a toothy grimace that in no way resembled a smile. [Right, right - show off the dangerous mutant to your friends. Now chase them off...]

Unfortunately, they seemed to be made of sterner stuff than he had hoped. Logan was still blissfully unaware that Rogue's friends had been regaled with so many Tales of the Wolverine over the preceding months that they considered him the next thing to community property (in a strictly platonic sense, of course, since Rogue had first claim on anything else). Now he regarded them with dismay as they plopped their trays down and pulled up chairs.

"So, just how bad does Mr. Summers' bike really look? Was he hyperventilating over a few scratches, or was it really messed up?" Kitty started off.

"Never mind **that**. Did you find out where the claws came from?" Jubilee jumped right in to what **she** considered to be the heart of the matter - or as close as she could come, given that Rogue would no doubt kill her if she started asking matchmaker-style questions.

Logan spent a full minute silently staring back and forth between Kitty, Jubes, and Rogue. His only prior experience in being interrogated by teenage girls had involved Marie, and he had to admit that she was a special case in all ways. But he was startled to realize that he actually wasn't minding being interrogated by her friends. They were young, exuberant, fearless (a quality he had a great deal of respect for) and willing to more or less accept him merely on Rogue's say-so - and he could see that Marie herself desperately wanted him to get along with her friends. The final reason in particular made him decide to play along, for the moment.

"Nope. Didn't find out a damned thing."

"Then why'd you stay gone so long?" Jubi demanded.

Logan blinked. He had been damned lucky that Marie hadn't come right out and asked him that one, since he didn't want to lie to her but would be hard up for a reasonably truthful answer that didn't involve his own self-control issues. He settled for, "Just making sure," as a contingency response, and silently begged the kid to find a new topic.

"And why no postcards, or phone calls, in **four months**?"

[Damn, not **that** topic, kid!]

"Maybe he was out in the middle of nowhere, away from phones and post offices and stuff... Right?" Kitty offered.

Logan silently thanked her for offering him an out, even as he rejected it. "Couldn't think of what to say." **Not** 'couldn't think of **anything** to say' - he could have said a **lot** of things, but many of them were edging towards R-rated, if not flat-out NC17. He had started writing so many postcards or letters that never made it past the nearest trashcan, because he couldn't find the right balance between offering up his soul on a plate (or, in his more Wolverinish moments, declaring his rights of possession) or producing a colorless "Wish you were here" missive that might strike her entirely the wrong way. "Didn't want to just send a blank postcard," he added, hoping to deflect the inquisitors with a bit of humor.

"I wouldn't have minded that," Rogue said softly. Surprised, he turned to look at her, and she added, "I would have known it was from you, and at least I would have known... where you were, and that you remembered me..."

[Oh. Damn. Looks like I should have gone for, "Wish you were here," after all.] "Right. Next time, blank postcards."

"You're leaving again?" Kitty looked alarmed, and Jubes disapproving.

"Not any time soon, right?" Marie gave him a faintly pleading look.

"Nah, Chuckie's got me back on the team... Hell, he's even trying to get me teaching something or other."

Unfortunately, his attempt at humor was completely lost on these two - although Marie gave him a raised eyebrow. "What subject?" Jubilee asked.

"He asked me if there was anything I was really good at..."

"And?" Jubi again.

"I told him - drinking, fighting, wandering around, not dying."

"And?" Kitty this time.

"He actually seemed to think that he could have me teaching some sort of self-defense or personal combat course." Unfortunately, the humor continued to escape two-thirds of his audience - no, make that **three** -thirds, since even Rogue was nodding thoughtfully. So he filled them in, "I told him, 'Chuckie, if you get me teaching these kids how to fight, I'm gonna wind up scaring at least half of them so bad they drop out of the school! **More** than half, if you want me to teach actual weapons!'"

This finally earned him a round of giggles. "What did he say to that?" Rogue sensed that the story wasn't quite finished yet.

"He said that it'd have to be an advanced class, for the kids who were real sure they were training to be X-Men - and for me not to call him 'Chuckie.'"

"So?" Jubes fed him the last straight line.

"So I told him, 'Whatever you say, Wheels...'" As the laughter died down, he added, "If you've got something to say, Cyke, quit glaring at the back of my neck and spit it out."

Jubes and Kitty gasped. Marie didn't - through having "had him in her head" in the past, she probably realized that the combination of her stare above his head and Cyclops' scent had been enough to alert him to the Fearless Leader's presence behind him. (The glaring bit had been pure guesswork.)

"The professor says he's offered you a position here."

Not bothering to turn around to face Cyke, he shrugged off-handedly. "You could say that."

"Teaching."

"Not much else to do at a **school**."

"Do you have any **experience** in teaching, or in working with children?" Logan didn't have to be watching him to know that he was tense with disapproval - his voice was painted liberally with it.

"Fucked if I know." Kitty's eyes widened and she put a hand to her mouth, while Marie smirked impishly and Jubilee actually laughed out loud. Wolverine let his amusement show briefly, since the girls could see his face and Scooter couldn't. "Guess we'll just have to find out."

"Logan. Watch your language in front of the students."

"I ain't saying nothing they haven't heard before. Right?" he asked of the table in general. Giggles and nods, though Kitty still looked like she was trying to decide whether to be alarmed or not.

"We still try to behave with decorum and set a positive example for the students." Each word was clipped and precise, Scott controlling his temper only with an effort.

Logan turned slightly in his chair, giving Cyke a disbelieving look. "Are you shitting me?"

Scooter tightened his jaw. "No, I am not." Having satisfied himself that he'd gotten the last word, he attempted to stalk off. To Wolverine's eyes, it was a rather amateurish stalk, clumsy and self-conscious but with a certain naive earnestness. He rated it about 6.5 out of a possible 10.

Turning back to the table, he announced, "Well, fuck **that**." Kitty decided to stop being shocked and succumbed to the shared laughter that followed.

"This is gonna be **fun** ," Jubilee proclaimed gleefully.

* * *

  
 _"Trembling at the thought of feeling.  
Wide awake and keeping distance.  
Nothing seems to penetrate her.  
She's scared as hell."  
\- "Cold and Ugly," by Tool _

* * *

  
Xavier had chosen to have Logan take over the self-defense classes from Scott (over the strong protests of the latter), but had also considered it a wise idea to give him a week or two to settle into the mansion and for he and his prospective students to become acquainted. So he had time to get familiar with the layout of the building, the nicely expansive wooded grounds surrounding the secluded mansion, and the nearest town, Salem Center.

Aside from a bit of exploring, and a certain number of evenings spent parked in front of the TV with a six-pack or three, Logan found himself spending time with Marie - and, by extension, her roommates. Jubilee in particular took charge of introducing the varied students to the brooding presence lurking over the remote control, which worried Logan more than a little. Marie had been living here for four damn **months** , and she didn't know people well enough to handle introductions by now?

Watching Marie with the other students, he tried to decide whether the distance - emotional and otherwise - between Marie and the other students was their doing or hers. He saw the way no one came within a foot or so of actual physical contact despite her eternal layerings of protective fabric, and was pleased to notice that - as far as his sensitive nose could tell - there was no actual fear involved in the physical separation. Caution, yes, but that was only to be expected.

One night when Marie beat him to the couch in front of the TV, he made a point of plopping down **right** next to her - well within the "comfort zone" the others stayed out of - and felt her stiffen beside him. He set his sixpack on the floor beside his feet before propping them up on the coffee table, then gave her a questioning look. "What?" he asked, letting the faintest hint of irritation creep into his tone. "Ain't we watching the Islanders whip the Stars?"

"Yeah, sure," she murmured, edging away slightly.

"So where you going?... I took a shower after I got out of the gym," he added with a playfully defensive note. Acting on impulse, he pretended to sniff himself, taking advantage of his raised arm to "casually" drop it around her shoulders and stop her escape. She froze at the touch. [Time to get this out into the open...] "You know, I've noticed no one seems to want to get near you no matter **how** much you're wearing. Is that you or them?"

She gave him a disbelieving look. "Excuse me?"

"I mean, here this is supposed to be where all the mutants can go to get along with each other and not have to sneak around pretending to be what they're not, and here **you** are at the edge of things with everyone tiptoeing around you keeping their distance. And I don't know whether that's **them** being afraid of **you** ," - no need to mention yet that he had an idea that wasn't it - "or **you** keeping **them** away."

A trace of anger crept into her expression. "In case you've **forgotten** , I can't **touch** anyone or I could **kill** them."

"Yeah, but that's what you wear all these clothes for. And they all know that, so no one's gonna go grabbing where they shouldn't. So what's the big deal?"

" **You** of all people should **know** what the big deal is!"

"Aah, not that bad. And I've touched you twice, so I know what I'm talking about." He forestalled the retort he saw forming. "Course, that's just me, so someone else might have been in a bit more trouble - but still, a coma isn't quite the same thing as killing someone. Especially if they come out of it pretty quick. Besides, like I said, everyone here knows not to go for the skin. So don't worry so much about it..."

She frowned, whether considering his point or just looking for a new line of attack he couldn't tell. He wasn't in the mood to argue about her gift right then. "Right now, we're going to just sit here and watch the game, and you're going to get used to having someone close up next to you who **isn't** getting put into a coma or dying."

By the end of the first quarter, she had relaxed somewhat, and by the half she was actually leaning into him. [This is good. This is very good. A bit more of this, and maybe I can get her to stop tensing up when I get close.] He glanced at the girl tucked under his arm out the corner of his eye. [Which could be a **lot** of fun.] The Wolverine perked up at this, suggesting that he try sliding his arm down to around her waist - maybe very **high** around her waist, say around the lower part of her ribs just under her breasts - but he squelched the impulse. [ **Way** too early to be groping the girl - in public, too. She's barely getting used to just being this close...]

So the upshot was that something new had been established: As far as their budding relationship went, touchy-feely was allowed. Which was great, although it still remained to be determined how far that went. Keeping in mind the matters as yet undiscussed between them, the public nature of their interaction, and the nagging matter of her underage status, he behaved himself with iron control. Arm around the shoulders, pat on the back, maybe even a hug if circumstances seemed to warrant, but nothing that would earn a glare from Cyke.

This had unexpected consequences. Somewhere Jubilee and Kitty seemed to have gotten the idea that what went for Rogue went for them as well. The first time Jubes came charging into the rec room, found him on the couch with Marie, and planted herself on his other side exactly as close as Marie was sitting, he almost told her to shove over. He caught himself just in time - anything along the lines of "Marie gets to do this and **you** don't" might lead to some unpleasant inquiries.

Over the ensuing weeks, he discovered to his surprise that he actually didn't mind. Jubilation Lee was irrepressible, aggravating, annoying, and threw herself at life with unquenchable enthusiasm. She enjoyed, she demanded shared enjoyment from those around her, and she refused to be intimidated by the crankiest or most homicidal of mutants. Logan having been a creature of the moment for the entirety of his remembered history, he understood the philosophy completely. Kitty was less exuberant, but her quieter sense of fun was paired with a bit more gentleness and empathy. He was actually having a fair bit of fun dealing with the entire trio, not just Marie on her own.

This was a new one on him. Physical attraction he understood - he had a fair bit for Jean, and even Storm, and for Marie in spades. Nonsexual dealings with females were uncharted territory. Come to think of it, he was kind of short on friends (that he could remember having, anyway), too. So this whole affection thing was pretty groundbreaking all round.

It was just as well that he was getting so close to a few members of the student body. Because by the end of his first week at the X-Mansion, once he began actually teaching, his popularity with the oldest students had taken a severe downturn.

* * *

  
 _"Quite frankly, teachers are the only profession that teach our children."  
\- Governor George W. Bush, Jr._

* * *

  
"Okay, what did you do to Peter?" Kitty demanded, plopping her tray down at Logan's table. "He and Sam were telling everyone in Mr. Summer's English class that you're the Antichrist."

Logan almost smirked but settled for a raised eyebrow. "If they think combat training is supposed to be nice and **friendly** , they've been learning from Scooter too damned long. Good thing I came along when I did."

"Yeah, but did you have to mark the guys up like that? Sam and Bobby were already starting to bruise up, and Peter was limping," Jubilee complained, arriving right behind Kitty.

Logan frowned, his fork halting midway to his mouth. "Which is worse - getting a few bruises, or getting **killed**? This is not supposed to be fun, I am not joking around, and they damned well better learn what I have to teach them or give up the whole dumbassed idea of joining the X-Men."

Jubes almost flinched, perhaps not expecting quite such a sharp reaction - or maybe just sensitive to the reminder that being an X-Man was a more-than-slightly-dangerous occupation. Kitty was less intimidated. "Okay, but why did you make everyone **not** use their powers?"

Logan sighed a little, setting his fork back on his plate. "What happens if you can't depend on your little walking-through-walls thing? What if you're fighting someone with the same trick, or can't use it somehow? What if you need to pass yourself off as human, even if you get in a fight? What do you do then?" Kitty frowned thoughtfully, and he accepted that his point had been made. "Basics first - when I think they know how to **fight** , then we move up to fighting with everything they've got."

"Okay, I get that, but did you have to threaten to start carving people up if they cheat and use their powers?" Jubi wanted to know.

Marie, coming up behind the other girls, beat Logan to the answer. "Because he needs to be scarier than anything they'll run into in a **real** fight." Logan nodded in confirmation.

"Well, you've got that **down** ," Jubes declared. "Totally."

"So you wouldn't **really** have cut them up for slipping up a little?" Kitty appealed.

Foreseeing the day when any or all of the girls might be standing before him waiting to be taught how to defend themselves, Logan told them the truth. "If you guys get to use **your** powers, then I get to use my claws. If anyone who's supposed to be learning from me refuses to fight me as hard as they can, I'll **make** them fight. And if I catch anyone lazing around or not taking this as seriously as they should, I'll give them a few scars to remind them."

Kitty and Jubilee blanched. Marie, he was pleased to note, merely nodded in silent agreement. When it came time to teach her how to defend herself - and he had no doubts that she would sign up for his "classes" at some point in the coming years - she would be ruthless and efficient, without having to be told.

Which was as it should be.

Logan raised his beer to her in a silent salute, before taking a long drink.

* * *

  
 _"No matter where you go, there you are."  
\- Buckaroo Banzai _

* * *

  
"He never should have been put in a class room setting in the first place! Use him on missions, fine, I can see that - but he shouldn't be in charge of actual students!"

As much as he hated agreeing with Scooter on anything, Logan had to admit that he saw his point completely. The Wolverine was the absolute **last** character to put in any kind of authority position over America's Youth, let alone trying to **teach** them anything. But agreeing with Cyke out loud just wouldn't be the thing, so he settled for maintaining his restless silence, pacing behind the chairs in Chuckie's office while waiting for either of the other two men to say something he felt like responding to.

Xavier gave Logan a brief look - [Probably got a **real** good idea of what I think about all this!] - before returning his attention to Cyclops. "Scott, I put Logan in charge of the self-defense courses for a very real reason. How much actual combat have you been in?"

Scooter stiffened. "There's been fighting involved on several of our missions - "

"Yeah, 'several.' How many's that - three, four?" Logan interrupted snidely. "I heard Jeannie and Storm had to beat up one of Maggie's baddies for you..."

The Professor broke in while Scott fumbled for a response. "Whereas Logan has spent most of the past fifteen years going from one fight to another."

Scott clenched his teeth. "Sir, I'm not arguing his combat experience." [Ooh, I'll bet it hurt to admit **that** one, Cyke!] "I'm debating his ability to teach - "

"Who the hell taught **you** to fight?" Logan broke in. "Because if they taught you anything like what you've been teaching those kids, it's a lead pipe cinch they'd never been in a **real** fight in their lives."

"A 'real' fight?" Scott countered sardonically. "I'll have you know my martial arts teachers left **bruises** \- "

"A 'real' fight," Logan cut in, "where you're trying to make sure that the other people don't get up. Not because they got a few bruises, not because they'll be tapped out once they're down a few seconds, but because you're trying to leave them either unconscious or dead. Because they're trying to do the same to you - and they're not playing by any sissy tournament rules, either. Eye gouging, ear biting, below the belt, sucker punches, broken bottles. Not to mention knives and guns. Bar fights, military action, going up against some psycho mutant who wants to rip your throat out. And that's exactly the kind of shit these kids need to be ready for, if you want them to be coming home from their first few missions."

"As deplorable as I find the sentiment," Xavier's cultured tones added, "I find the contention to be largely accurate. I'm afraid we simply can't depend on all our opponents to be playing by Marquis of Queensberry rules." He cocked an eyebrow at Logan. [I wonder if he's expecting me to ask what the "Marquis of Queensberry rules" are? As if I didn't already know...]

Scooter took a deep breath, and found one last ploy. "Then have him teach me."

Logan halted in midstep, whirling to get a good look at Cyke. [Not bad, not bad - a serious hit to the ego, admitting that I know more about this than he does - but if the Prof goes for it then he wins after all by keeping me away from the kids.]

The Professor raised an eyebrow. "As a matter of fact, I was thinking that **all** of you could benefit by Logan's training - future and **current** X-Men."

Logan laughed once, sharply - more at Cyke's jaw-dropped astonishment than anything else - before it really hit him. Not only had Wheels confirmed his position as combat instructor, but he had actually helped the argument for it himself. When he didn't even want the damned job in the first place...

He managed to keep his sigh inaudible. If the best available alternative was Scooter, then it sounded like those kids really **needed** him. Lord knew he wasn't fond of the idea of leaving **Marie** to depend on what Cyke could teach her...

So be it.

Xavier's school had a new "physical education" instructor.

He was a fucking **teacher**.


End file.
